Μνήμα (Mnima) / Trhä - Split
Digging your own grave XX: Parting ways.
It’s hard to cook up an interesting introduction to a review regarding a split. You obviously can’t hone in on a thematic thread, be it aesthetic or lyrical, and writing an introduction about each band is just not sustainable, nor does it make for engaging writing. So I’m just left staring down the barrel of what is at the time Μνήμα’s most recent split, and their last release of 2023. As we’ve already established, these particular works aren’t exactly pillars of excellence, and serve primarily as a way for the band to put out a handful of material without the need to commit to something more profound or elaborate. As such, their material in them tends to be hit-or-miss, something that is further compounded by their having to share space with other artists whom I’m not quite familiar with. Really, it puts into sharp relief why splits aren’t a popular format to cover in the Archives, despite them having their own merits.
In any case, our guest this time around is none other than Trhä, arguably the most high-profile band Μνήμα’s crossed paths with during this series. Although I am not familiar with their work, it’s hard to ignore the waves it’s been making for the past few years, and that’s not even beginning to cover the absurdly industrious work rate at which releases have been coming out, or the weirdo high-concept that seems like a cheeky way to make the music harder to find online. All this serves to make the body of work presented here appear prohibitively daunting, despite the music itself pointing towards a different direction.
“Tacnjadrhja idlhvrétc lejtovaedënohhdlhumërsa jad” (you bet your ass I copy-pasted this) is quick to reveal its hand, boasting a rather uplifting mood, despite the opening riff’s crackling timbre, further accentuated by some honey-sweet basslines, crisply flowing underneath and adding more texture. It’s quite whimsical all things considered, Ojeda strikes a nice balance between blissfulness and intensity, even if his vocals are rather typical of USBM, a shrill shriek that even at its lowest sounds rather strained and veers closer towards a shout than a growl. Like a lot of USBM at the turn of the century, it’s an acquired taste, and although there are things that could theoretically appeal to traditionalists, there’s just enough stuff to put them off. As for me, I dig the style, even with the occasional caveat.
“Mon tlen haoqhar i gonem tënno” starts on a decidedly different note, the punk beats at the start providing a lot of propulsive energy that is then thrown completely off-balance by this rather uncanny arpeggio that straddles the line between professional tightness and slovenly looseness, its volume subtly fluctuating through each chord. This feeling is further exacerbated as Ojeda shifts the tempo and slows things down to a crawl and speeds them back up repeatedly, and also makes sure to inject some light synth work in the latter half of the song. It’s surprisingly wistful, and manages to stand out in the midst of a flurry of tremolo riffing, which despite its unrelenting character manages to let those glittering notes shine through, coating the listener in a light and comforting haze.
Μνήμα are quick to break that spell though, as “Spiritual Decadence” is a much murkier and enveloping composition, making for a malevolent foil to their whimsical companion. While this piece isn’t anything new for them, it remains tight in its execution, and I’ve always had a fondness for the band diving into cavernous territory with their production. The vocals (according to M-A provided by X. once again) sound more guttural and rancid, groans and growls seeping through the din of the music. “Funeral Temple” further picks up the pace, with a reconfiguration of a riff lifted off “Reliquary of Grief and Loss” (from the untitled 2021 four-way split), but I must confess that I do highly enjoy the primitive snare-kick pattern that shows up later on. It’s dumb fun, and that’s not something that one can say often for Μνήμα.
The closing “As I Shed My Mortal Coil” is the undisputed highlight of their side though, as it leans into the “Less is more” mindset, its twisted passageways crammed into a little less than 5 and a half minutes. It doesn’t sacrifice any of its grimness either, everything is in lockstep, and even the inhuman moaning makes a return here, not to mention that the tom rolls that pop up sound positively devastating. It’s all someone could ask from a short song like this one, and despite not being all that fresh, it espouses a conviction that is hard to deny, even when half the track is a feedback-laced outro, dripping with melancholy.
I must confess that I struggled in picking a “winner” in this split, as both sides pleasantly surprised me, and when taken in full make for the second split in Μνήμα’s career that I’d consider fully worth listening. As of right now, it’s their last release in this format, and while they’ve been on the whole inconsistent on this front, they did provide some insight into what artists our unknown mastermind finds to be worthwhile in terms of collaboration. I can’t say I found myself aligning with all of them, but those that did land for me held my attention for a variety of reasons, be it an unusual approach to black metal, or simply being good at their craft. At the end of the day, I’d like to think I had a good time with these releases, warts and all. Perhaps I wouldn’t mind seeing another one later down the line, especially given the fact that the remaining few releases in this series are raw and uncut Μνήμα, with no diversions whatsoever.
In any case, our guest this time around is none other than Trhä, arguably the most high-profile band Μνήμα’s crossed paths with during this series. Although I am not familiar with their work, it’s hard to ignore the waves it’s been making for the past few years, and that’s not even beginning to cover the absurdly industrious work rate at which releases have been coming out, or the weirdo high-concept that seems like a cheeky way to make the music harder to find online. All this serves to make the body of work presented here appear prohibitively daunting, despite the music itself pointing towards a different direction.
“Tacnjadrhja idlhvrétc lejtovaedënohhdlhumërsa jad” (you bet your ass I copy-pasted this) is quick to reveal its hand, boasting a rather uplifting mood, despite the opening riff’s crackling timbre, further accentuated by some honey-sweet basslines, crisply flowing underneath and adding more texture. It’s quite whimsical all things considered, Ojeda strikes a nice balance between blissfulness and intensity, even if his vocals are rather typical of USBM, a shrill shriek that even at its lowest sounds rather strained and veers closer towards a shout than a growl. Like a lot of USBM at the turn of the century, it’s an acquired taste, and although there are things that could theoretically appeal to traditionalists, there’s just enough stuff to put them off. As for me, I dig the style, even with the occasional caveat.
“Mon tlen haoqhar i gonem tënno” starts on a decidedly different note, the punk beats at the start providing a lot of propulsive energy that is then thrown completely off-balance by this rather uncanny arpeggio that straddles the line between professional tightness and slovenly looseness, its volume subtly fluctuating through each chord. This feeling is further exacerbated as Ojeda shifts the tempo and slows things down to a crawl and speeds them back up repeatedly, and also makes sure to inject some light synth work in the latter half of the song. It’s surprisingly wistful, and manages to stand out in the midst of a flurry of tremolo riffing, which despite its unrelenting character manages to let those glittering notes shine through, coating the listener in a light and comforting haze.
Μνήμα are quick to break that spell though, as “Spiritual Decadence” is a much murkier and enveloping composition, making for a malevolent foil to their whimsical companion. While this piece isn’t anything new for them, it remains tight in its execution, and I’ve always had a fondness for the band diving into cavernous territory with their production. The vocals (according to M-A provided by X. once again) sound more guttural and rancid, groans and growls seeping through the din of the music. “Funeral Temple” further picks up the pace, with a reconfiguration of a riff lifted off “Reliquary of Grief and Loss” (from the untitled 2021 four-way split), but I must confess that I do highly enjoy the primitive snare-kick pattern that shows up later on. It’s dumb fun, and that’s not something that one can say often for Μνήμα.
The closing “As I Shed My Mortal Coil” is the undisputed highlight of their side though, as it leans into the “Less is more” mindset, its twisted passageways crammed into a little less than 5 and a half minutes. It doesn’t sacrifice any of its grimness either, everything is in lockstep, and even the inhuman moaning makes a return here, not to mention that the tom rolls that pop up sound positively devastating. It’s all someone could ask from a short song like this one, and despite not being all that fresh, it espouses a conviction that is hard to deny, even when half the track is a feedback-laced outro, dripping with melancholy.
I must confess that I struggled in picking a “winner” in this split, as both sides pleasantly surprised me, and when taken in full make for the second split in Μνήμα’s career that I’d consider fully worth listening. As of right now, it’s their last release in this format, and while they’ve been on the whole inconsistent on this front, they did provide some insight into what artists our unknown mastermind finds to be worthwhile in terms of collaboration. I can’t say I found myself aligning with all of them, but those that did land for me held my attention for a variety of reasons, be it an unusual approach to black metal, or simply being good at their craft. At the end of the day, I’d like to think I had a good time with these releases, warts and all. Perhaps I wouldn’t mind seeing another one later down the line, especially given the fact that the remaining few releases in this series are raw and uncut Μνήμα, with no diversions whatsoever.
I don't know where else to fit this, but this split is yet another instance of the cover perfectly encapsulating the music's ambience, an obscure and arcane mysticism tinged with religious undertones. Great stuff.
Trhä highlight: Mon tlen haoqhar i gonem tënno
Μνήμα highlight: As I Shed My Mortal Coil
Rating: 75%
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